


Trowa and Tribulations

by lil_1337



Series: Morning After [7]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Humor, M/M, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Morning After Universe and takes place after Someone Suitable.  Trowa learns something new about Quatre that makes him question the viability of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trowa and Tribulations

“Adua!” Quatre greeted the man at the door of Magnac’s warmly and was immediately pulled into a hug. Behind him Trowa shifted, eyes sliding away from his date to the parking lot. It was filled with cars that were considered top of the line in both speed and luxury. Despite the look he’d gotten from the valet Trowa hadn’t had a problem with having his ten year old vehicle parked in the middle of the obvious trappings of wealth. She was a good car and he really had no need for status symbols. Especially ones that were expensive to purchase and maintain.

“This is my date, Trowa Barton. Trowa, Adua. Adua, Trowa.” Quatre smiled, taking Trowa’s hand and tugging it gently until he was level with them.

Adua turned sharp, dark eyes on Trowa, studying him and not bothering to hide it. After a moment he seemed to be satisfied with what he saw and smiled. It was not as large or as bright as the one he’d bestowed on Quatre, but still appeared to be genuine. “It is a pleasure to meet someone Quatre deems worthy of his affections.”

Out of the corner of his eye Trowa could see that the tips of Quatre’s ears had gone pink, adorably so, but his smile never dimmed. “I could say the same.” Trowa offered a hand to Adua who shook it firmly, but without any pretense. Trowa mentally patted himself on the back, he was off to a good start. One inspection down at least a hundred more to go.

“Rashid was very happy when you said you were coming to visit.” Auda was already turning his attention to the next guest coming up the walk. “Go see him before he comes out and accuses me of keeping you to myself.”

Quatre laughed then said something in a language that Trowa didn’t understand. Apparently Auda did because he repeated it before shooing them towards the door.

“You’re bilingual?” Trowa asked, intrigued, but not surprised. He was enjoying learning about all of Quatre’s talents.

Quatre shrugged. “Yes, though I don’t know a lot of the intricacies of Arabic. Iria is much better at it than I am.” He paused, his smile taking on a rueful edge. “I’ve always communicated better with music, she’s the talker.”

Trowa frowned then shook his head in disagreement. “From what I’ve seen you communicate well with words too.”

As he was opening his mouth to reply Quatre was cut off by a booming voice that carried an almost physical presence. “Master Quatre!” A large man of middle eastern decent stood in the doorway of the restaurant and after taking one huge step forward he engulfed Quatre in a hug that had him barely standing on the tips of his toes. Quatre said something that was lost to Trowa’s ears, but brought forth a surprisingly gentle laugh from the man that Trowa assumed was Quatre’s Uncle Rashid.

After a moment they separated and Rashid stepped back. He cupped Quatre’s face in his hands and studied it. “You look better. There is color in your cheeks and you are smiling again.” His gaze flicked to Trowa for a moment then returned to Quatre. “I am pleased to see this. We were all concerned about you.”

“I’m fine.” Quatre chuckled, but made no attempt to move away, completely comfortable under the big man’s scrutiny.

“We worry.” Rashid dropped his hands and turned to face Trowa. “You’re Trowa Barton.” Trowa nodded and offered his hand only to have it disappear in Rashid’s grip. “It is good to meet you, but you need to understand that you are here as Quatre’s guest. If you upset or hurt him you will not be welcomed back again.”

Trowa nodded. “If I hurt him I don’t deserve to come back.”

Rashid’s grin took on a softer edge and he nodded in a way that made Trowa feel as if he had just signed a contract without stopping to read the fine print. That was okay though, the terms seemed to be ones he could easily live with. “We understand each other. Now, let's find you a table.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“So, Master Quatre?” Trowa grinned eyeing his dinner partner over the top of the menu. “I bet that has a story behind it.”

“It does.” Quatre set the menu down after barely looking through it. “First though, we need some wine. Do you have any preferences?”

“I don’t know anything about wine.” Trowa frowned, coming down with a thud from his high of acing his introduction to Quatre’s uncle. “Pear cider and the occasional beer is pretty much it for me.”

“My palate is not that sophisticated.” Quatre smiled apologetically. “But I do know what I like. Generally I prefer whites because they aren’t as heavy. Even then I can’t drink more than a glass without getting a headache, especially if I drink it quickly..”

“I’ll trust whatever you pick.” Trowa smiled then looked back at his menu. “What are you going to have?” There were no prices on the menu and it made him feel uncomfortable not knowing how much he was spending even if it wasn’t going to be on his tab. The sense that he was out of depth that had started at Zechs’ store resurged and Trowa pushed it down forcefully. This was dinner with Quatre, he’d done that before and been damn good at it. Plus, he’d made a good impression on Auda and Uncle Rashid. He was so owning this fancy dress up thing.

“Lasagne.” Quatre tapped the menu with a finger. “Rashid makes the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“I don’t remember seeing that on the menu.” Trowa glanced through again, but his memory was not faulty. In fact everything listed had a middle eastern flair. There was nothing even remotely Italian in nature.

“It’s not.” Quatre grinned, looking like a little boy with a secret. “Rashid always makes some if he knows I’m coming.”

“Oh.” Trowa fidgeted with the menu, unsure whether he should order the same thing or if the lasagna was a private thing between Quatre and his uncle that he shouldn’t intrude on.

“You should try it.” Quatre’s grin was infectious as was his enthusiasm.

Relieved that it was one less decision he had to make, Trowa nodded his agreement. Quatre waved over one of the waiters, who he introduced as Abdul, and ordered for them. After the wine was served and poured he leaned back in his chair and sipped it. “When my dad first immigrated to the United States he worked for a mining company. I don’t know what they did just that it was dangerous and he almost died more than once. Rashid and the rest of the guys were in his crew and they called themselves the Magnacs. I have no idea what it means and I have asked, but none of them will tell me.”

Trowa nodded and sipped his wine, surprised to find that he enjoyed it. “This is good.”

Quatre grinned, happiness evident on his face. “I’m glad you like it. It's one of my favorites.” He took another sip then continued. “Fast forward, my dad has started his own business and Iria is three. That’s when I was born. My mom died in childbirth.” He took another drink and looked away for a minute, his focus on something far away.

“I’m sorry.” Trowa set down his glass and took Quatre’s hand in his, squeezing it.

“So am I.” Quatre sighed then set his wine to the side as well. “Here is my dad with a new business, a toddler and an infant so, as always, the Maganacs stepped in to help each other. That’s what they do. The end result was that Rashid was my nanny and bodyguard until I started high school. He had always wanted to own a restaurant so when I was old enough to fend for myself my dad paid all the start up costs for him and here we are. Dad always said that he probably owed Rashid more than that in back pay alone if nothing else. ”

“Why did you need a bodyguard?” Trowa frowned, confused. There was no doubt that Quatre came from money, everything about him whispered quality and class, but it was a long jump from financially comfortable to your kids need someone to keep them safe.

“I didn’t. Not really.” Quatre blushed and looked away for the space of a second. “Rashid liked to say he was a nanny and bodyguard so I always called him that. Especially when I got older.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Trowa smiled, relieved. He was starting to wonder if Quatre might be more out of his league than he had originally thought. “So he calls you Master Quatre because he worked for your father?”

Quatre snorted. “He worked _with_ my father. Never for him. He always made it very clear that he loved me, but I was the child and the big decisions were up to him.” Quatre took another sip of wine, a smile dancing on his lips. “When I was about five. One time while my father was away on business there was a big storm and the electricity went out. We, Iria, Rashid and I ended up in front of the fire in the family room to keep warm. She was scared and kept crying. Rashid told me that I was the master of the house when my father was away and it was my job to make sure that she was okay. I played the violin for her and it helped, both of us actually. After that, whenever I was lost or confused about to do he would remind me that I was “Master Quatre” and it was my responsibility to take care of others. Now, it has evolved into an affectionate nickname that he refuses to let go of even though I keep telling him to.”

“My sister still calls me shorty even though I’m at least six inches taller than she is.” Trowa laughed. “Once you get stuck with a nickname it never goes away.”

Quatre sighed and nodded. “I’m beginning to think that is the truth.”

The salads arrived first and Trowa studied the silverware surrounding his plate. To the left were two forks and to the right a knife and two spoons. Unsure what to do he sat until Quatre picked up the outside fork then copied him. Sipping his wine to cover for fact that he did not begin eating immediately. The salad was not what Trowa had expected, but it was still good and he finished it easily.

The lasagna, when it arrived, was piping hot and covered in bubbling cheese. The aromas of tomato, basil and oregano filled the air when two fully loaded plates were set on the table. Trowa watched as Quatre selected a fork and dove in despite the steam and the looks from several of the other diners who had noticed the unusual scents. Cautiously, not wanting to do anything to embarrass Quatre, Trowa picked up his fork and took a small bite, hoping it would live you to the build up.

“How is it?” Quatre paused, his hand lingering over his wine glass, as he waited for an answer.

Trowa finished chewing the bite he was eating then swallowed. “It’s really good. Way better than Cathy’s. Not that I am going to tell her that.” He grimaced as he forked up another piece.

Quatre laughed. “I want to hear the story behind that look.”

“When I was a sophomore in high school I got mad for some reason and told her that her potato soup was stupid and boring.” Trowa blushed at the memory. “She told me if I didn’t like it then I could just cook for myself.”

“What did you do?” Quatre made no effort to hide the amusement he was feeling.

“I ate peanut butter and jelly on crackers for a week before she finally took pity on me.”

Chuckling, Quatre took a sip of his wine. “That sounds horrible.”

“It was.” Trowa agreed. “I did get lunch in the cafeteria so that broke it up a little.”

“Was that good or bad?”

Trowa shrugged. “It was cafeteria food so about what you’d expect.”

“My school didn’t have a cafeteria.” Quatre looked somewhat uncomfortable with the confession, but still curious about the response his comment would bring forth.

“Oh,” Trowa blushed, embarrassed for assuming. “Mass produced food on the cheapest budget possible. So not great, but you can eat it. Some things aren’t too bad like the macaroni and cheese or the hot dogs. Stay away from the pizza though, it’s usually pretty gross.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Quatre smiled and resumed his attack on his lasagna.

Trowa watched him for a minute turning the question over in his mind before finally asking. “What did you do for lunch if your school didn’t have a cafeteria?”

“Most of the kids were picked up and driven home, but a few had food either brought in or went to the restaurants in the area. I went home unless Rashid was busy because lunch there was better than anyplace I could have gone in the ninety minutes allotted to us.”

“When did you get to hang out with other kids and play?” Trowa was curious now. He hadn’t been very social as a kid, but he had loved to play soccer and was good at it so there was a group that he always hung out with at lunch. They weren’t exactly friends, but it was enough for him at the time.

“Play wasn’t high on the list of things that they were known for. They did have physical education because a strong mind requires a strong body or so Coach Ivins always said.”

“You do have a nice strong body.” Trowa grinned, letting his more carnal interests in Quatre show through.

“Thank you.” Quatre smiled, letting his gaze wander over Trowa in a way that pushed all his questions and insecurities to a dusty back corner of his mind. “So do you. Your mind’s not half bad either.”

Dinner ended with baklava served with a dish of honey ice cream on the side. It was easily one of the tastiest things Trowa had ever eaten. When it was finished and they were sipping cups of Turkish Coffee Rashid joined them, pulling up a chair that looked much too fragile for him, but seemed to hold him without issue or complaint.

“How was your meal?” He looked first at Quatre then Trowa.

“Delicious as always.” Quatre smiled, leaned back in his chair, and patted his stomach contentedly.

“Best lasagne I’ve ever had.” Trowa added his two cents since Rashid seemed to be genuinely interested. Plus, he wasn’t too proud to try to curry some favor. Cathy had drilled into him that manners and politeness were important and for once Trowa was going to show his off.

“Good. Good.” Rashid smiled at each of them in turn then shifted his focus to Quatre. “Tell your father he needs to come have dinner with us soon. I miss seeing my old friend. Auda told me the other day it had been almost six months since we saw him last. That is much too long.”

“I’ll tell him, but he’s always busy these days.” There was an undertone of sadness to Quatre’s voice that made Trowa frown. Sad Quatre was not something he wanted in his life. Happy Quatre and horny Quatre were his favorites followed by sleepy Quatre, but sad was not welcome at all.

“Too busy.” Rashid sighed and shook his head. “He can get in that plane of his and fly down here to see us and his children. It is only an hour or so and he can work on the way if he has to. You should tell him so.”

“You know he is going to tell me that it is not his plane, it belongs to W.E.I. and he can’t just take it whenever he wants.” Quatre laughed and shook his head.

“Pffft.” Rashid dismissed Quatre’s words with a wave of his hand. “He owns the company so it is his plane.” He considered for a minute, an impish grin growing on his face. “I will talk to Iria. She has always been able to sweet talk him.”

Quatre laughed and shook his head, affection and amusement mingling on his face. “You might be onto something there. She does have better luck than I do.”

Trowa watched, amused. It felt like he was seeing a game of tennis between two fairly evenly matched opponents. It was easy to see the familiarity and affection between the two men as well as the fact that this was a conversation that was steeped in history and repetition. He smiled, enjoying seeing Quatre happy and relaxed until the part about the plane and W.E.I. hit the upper level thinking part of his brain. Holy shit! Even he, as out of touch with business as was humanly possible, knew about W.E.I. No wonder Quatre had gone to a fancy school and needed a bodyguard. He was so close to fucking King Midas it was a miracle that Trowa’s dick hadn’t turned to gold!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*

“I love that suit and I can’t wait to see how it looks hanging over a chair in my bedroom. Possibly the same one that I am going to bend you over. Or maybe I won’t even take it off you. It would be worth the cost of dry cleaning to do you while you’re still wearing it.”

Quatre’s voice was a wicked purr that sent all of Trowa’s nerve endings into overdrive. The hand slowly working its way up Trowa’s leg to his ass was not helping any. He was ready for this, had been wanting it since he’d seen Quatre in his own damn tasty suit. Yep, he was way past ready. Unfortunately his damn brain would not shut up. Its running commentary about how Trowa had no business being there and eventually Quatre would figure it out was running counterpoint to the external stimulation and fuck it all, the brain was winning.

Drawing a ragged breath Trowa stepped back, giving himself some space to breathe both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry.”

Quatre frowned then reached for Trowa’s hand, pulling him over to sit on the couch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize something was bothering you. My brain got stuck on how much I wanted to take you to bed.”

“I want that too.” Trowa took another deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to put what he was feeling into words. Next to him Quatre sat quietly stroking the back of Trowa’s hand exuding calm and patience despite the fact the five minutes earlier his hands had been roaming all over Trowa in the best possible ways. Quatre was everything Trowa wanted and it just wasn’t fair. Pulling his hand away from Quatre, Trowa stood, trying not to let the sadness and hurt on Quatre’s face change his mind. “I’m sorry. This isn’t right. I don’t belong here.”

“I don’t understand.” Quatre’s frown deepened as confusion took over. “Why do you think that?”

“Because,” Now that the words had started Trowa knew he was not going to be able to stop. Fuck his damn brain and it’s need to overthink things. “You’re rich, really rich, and I don’t even know what fork to use. The only reason I have this suit is Heero had a friend who owed him a favor. I don’t know wine or business. I wash my socks in the sink to save money. If I didn’t have a scholarship I would never have been able to go to school. I’m nobody and you’re somebody important. Someone special. I really like you so it is better if I go now before I embarrass you and it ends badly for both of us.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had settled on his chest. Now that it was out it was starting to feel real. Too real. Muttering under his breath he added. “Rashid’s going to kill me. He’s going to hunt me down and kill me and I deserve it.”

“You might be right about the last part, but you’re wrong about the first.” Quatre’s voice was soft, but held hints of an iron will underneath. Reaching up he grabbed Trowa’s hand and tugged pulling him off balance so that he landed somewhat heavily on the couch. “I’m _not_ rich. My father is, but I’m not. I have a trust fund, but I can’t touch it until I’m 35 and even then I will only have access to the interest. My father worked hard to build W.E.I. and he expects his children to do the same.”

Quatre took a breath and let it out slowly before continuing.

“School is my job and I get an allowance to live on as long as I work hard at it and do my best. It is generous, I admit, but I am still expected to pay my bills and to live within my means. My father is not going to bail me out if I overextend myself. My motorcycle I worked summers and school breaks to pay for. It’s mine because I earned it just like you earned your car.”

Trowa nodded slowly trying not to let himself trust in the glimmer of hope he was seeing. It would hurt to much to give in and have Quatre stolen away from him again. “Okay.”

“I don’t care about wine and forks and suits. If you want to know about those things I can teach you or you can google place settings and learn for yourself. You’re smart Trowa, you just haven’t had a reason to get the information or the experience. My ex…”

“The asshole.” The words were out of Trowa’s mouth before he even realized he said them.

“That’s the one.” Quatre’s chuckle was sweet and musical to Trowa’s ears. “He knew all those things and it meant nothing. I don’t want that, Trowa. I want someone who sees me, not a checkbook or an atm. Someone who will laugh and make music with me. Someone who wants to cuddle and watch old movies instead of having to go out and party every night so he can be seen in all the right places with all the right people. You can’t teach consideration or thoughtfulness or kindness and compassion and I want those too. Someone who will call me on my bullshit, but not treat me like a doormat or let me treat them like one either.”

Frowning, Trowa nodded, letting Quatre’s words sink in and processing them. “So you don’t care if all I can do is take you to pizza and a movie?”

“I enjoyed the other night, Trowa. I loved meeting Hilde and for once feeling like a college kid. I’m looking forward to going again and to meeting Duo. I shared Magnacs with you not because I wanted to show off or make you feel uncomfortable, but because you shared something important to you with me. I wanted you to meet my family so they would know what a good person you are and stop worrying.”

Trowa blinked, trying to process all the information that Quatre had just thrown at him. Firmly and with malice aforethought he told the little voice in his head to shut the fuck up. If Quatre thought that Trowa was who he wanted then Trowa was damn well going to make sure that the trust in him was not betrayed. Quietly and cautiously he spoke, wanting to make sure that he had really understand what was being said. “Does that mean you still want to go out?”

“Yes!” Quatre’s laugh was warm and infectious. “I want to date you, fuck you, cover you in cinnamon sugar and eat you for breakfast.”

“Okay.” Trowa let out a breath and grinned back, relief evident in his expression. “I’m going to need help at least until I figure some of this shit out.”

“So will I.” Quatre shot back at him. “I don’t want to embarrass you either.”

“Deal.” Trowa stuck his hand and they shook solemnly before Quatre let himself be pulled in for a promise laden kiss.


End file.
